Whispers
by XantiumRising
Summary: After working mission after mission together, stress and tension lead to a little something happening with everyone's favorite saboteur and disappearing act. Jazz also finds out just how strict and chaste the Towers was regarding interfacing. . .


The Trick is to Keep Breathing

Slow digits, slender digits, stroked and played, touching at his hip, sending shivers that arched to the tips of his pedes, all the way to the tips of his own digits. A keening sound left his vocalizer at those teasing touches, so beautiful, leaving images in his CPU of the patterns being drawn upon his plating by skilled hands.

In retaliation he heard, "Shhhh. . . don't get so fired up. . .long ways ta go, dear. . ." A warm voice, gentle, soothing on his worried nerves. Worried he wouldn't measure up, he had no experience after all, unlike the mech who was nestled close, pressed against his back, making all those wonderful touches to his frame.

"Jus' relax," the voice came again, a smooth tenor, rather spicy in that sultry way the mech was speaking. Golden optics flickered as he felt lips, generous and handsome, press to venting on his helm, and there, upon that place, he felt heat, pleasured heat.

"Ain't gonna hurt ya, Raj," the mech spoke again, that mech that was about his size, just a touch taller, not much, a little broader than his own lithe frame, but those weren't at all the differences he was concerned with. Oh, Mirage knew that Jazz had quite a few little encounters, and was all too experienced in this sort of thing, those meandering digits that were heading toward his plate were just one of the many affirmations he had to that knowledge. Yet himself, he had none, no, his seals were quite intact. Had he ever been allowed a chance to interface? No, not once, not while he had been in the Towers. Among the Autobots, he had been ostracized by all but a few. One of those being that wily saboteur that now had his hand on his plate. Warmth had bloomed from his helm and to his hip, but flames erupted as he felt that touch, causing him to draw in a sharp curl of air into his intakes his optics brightening as well.

To his audio receptors came a soft chuckle, smooth and deep like half-candied energon, unlike his own voice, which was almost a low alto, tremulous. "I know you're not. . ." he finally replied to that little promise of Jazz's.

"Good. . . ." came a reply as he felt a nuzzle, then a kiss followed by a series of kisses all pressed to the tubing of his neck.

How did this rendevous happen? Mirage questioned himself with that, questioned with glazed optics, giving little pants as those digits pressed to his panel, firmer now, causing waves of pleasure to enfold about him while more kisses were pressed to his neck tubing. A good question that, he thought, tipping his head back, granting the saboteur more room to kiss upon at the crux of his neck. The sight of this must've been beautiful, that way that Jazz was curled against his back, a leg threaded between his legs, the knee now rubbing at the bottom of his panel in tandem with that skilled hand that seemed to have the delicacy and deftness of an artist's hand.

Just how did it happen? Perhaps it had happened slowly, Jazz being a saboteur, and him a spy, it was natural that when the either of them worked with another, it was with each other. Over the course of time, they had learned to trust each other, for Mirage, that was rare, given his situation with most the mechs of the Autobots being tenuous at best. Yet for Jazz, having trust seemed a not-so rare thing. Every mech on the Ark trusted Jazz, and the once noble had easily seen why. The mech had been always good with him, kind, even under the worse of conditions, even when nerves were worn thin. Yet that still didn't answer that fundamental question. How did this, exactly this, happen, him, Mirage, on Jazz's berth, with the saboteur wrapped upon him, seducing him, pleasuring him? He didn't honestly know. They had been returning from a mission, and Jazz's quarters had been on the way to his own, and the saboteur had so kindly offered him some energon. . . Despite what ever it had been that had triggered this. . .pleasurable meeting, Mirage didn't care, no, he was far too wrapped up in what that black and white mech was doing to him. A soft click greeted his audio receptors, and looking down, he felt heat flare into his derma plating, despite the fact that no touches were administered there. . . At least not yet that was.

"There we go," came that comforting voice, and that hand, that which had been sweeping upon his plate, his plate that was now folded out of place, now swept to the parts revealed, parts never used, at least not yet, but they would soon have use. Somehow it was comforting to know Jazz would be his first, a mech who knew how to pleasure, yet at the same time, embarrassing, to know that he was still a virgin. . .

Before he could pay much attention to his uncertainties and insecurities, as if Jazz knew just what he was thinking, he felt a digit circle his valve, while a second pressed gently to the seal upon it. That sensual touch bade all thoughts to flee, replaced with only teasing pleasure. A cry left him and once again, intakes hitching rather roughly, that voice came, "Relax, Raj, wouldn't want ta get to fired up so soon." Those digits, so skilled in everything they did, continued to twirl and press about those areas. Around his waist was Jazz's other hand, beginning to tease at his stomach plating, and dimly was the noble aware of the gentle rubs to his aft from the saboteur's pelvic regions. Another click soon followed, but it wasn't from him, but the next moan that came, surely was from him. There was a shifting then, that hand around his waist pulling, drawing him up as he felt the saboteur move against him, the both of them soon lightly balanced up their knees, a shiver running through the noble when that mech, Jazz, drew his digit tips down his back strut. With that movement, Mirage was keenly aware of a sensation between his legs, within his valve, a sensation of wetness, some of it weighing against the seal covering over his valve. Sounds wafted to his audio receptors, soft little sounds from the saboteur before he felt a hand tug upon his chin, drawing him into a less than chaste kiss.

Gratifying was a word that could've described that meeting and mingling of their lips, and again, Mirage couldn't help but moan, muffled as he felt Jazz's glossa thrust into his mouth to end up tangling with his own. Truly, Mirage was a novice at this, yet the saboteur did well to lead him on. Intakes hitched, drawing in long dregs of cooler air into his systems, seeking, in vain, to cool his systems before things got even more passionate. The kiss persisted to the point it seemed forever and not, yet it broke before his systems could overheat, which he thought they surely would at the rate Jazz was taking things. Panting, his aureate optics looked to the side to see the dimness of the saboteur's visor just before the mech started to nibble at the chords in his neck. Digits continued to rub at that seal on his valve, causing more waves of pleasure in him before he heard Jazz moan ever so softly against his audio receptor. With all that it was that was working through him, so early on, he was barely aware of that slight brush against his thigh, though he more than felt the moan from Jazz as the saboteur extended himself.

There was shifting, subtle, but there was shifting none the less and he felt Jazz's lips brush against his cheek and even that made him moan before he felt them brushed against his audio receptors. "Migh' sting jus' a little," Jazz murmured out to him, "But after that, it's all pleasure," he continued, voice falling into a whisper. The noble couldn't help but nod, thinking that the smallest bit of pain would surely be worth all the pleasure the black and white mech promised in his every touch. Finally, finally, did Jazz ask those words of him, the ones he had been waiting for what seemed like hours now.

"Ya ready for this?" came that tenor drawl, raised only slightly in timbre, breathy even, but so seductive still.

"Yes, yes, please. . ." Mirage replied without even thinking; his voice coming out far stronger than he believed it could in such a situation though there was definitely a tone of desperation in his voice.

Like before, there was movement, little shifts here, plating rubbing against plating and he felt himself being drawn back against Jazz even more. Never had Mirage thought an act so physical, so seemingly raw and inarticulate could be as lovely as what the saboteur was making it. The noble was well aware of a gentle pressure upon his valve, right there upon the seal, and he knew it was not Jazz's hands, no, not with one wrapping around his stomach and the other rubbing upon his hip. "Easy now," came that tenor drawl and gentle pressure switched from firm pressure and Mirage found himself sucking in a rough breath into his intakes as that straining spike pressed upon him, pushed against the seal on his valve. It was as Jazz said, a sting as the seal was broken, yet already he could feel the mingling of pleasure within that discomfort. The noble arched against his companion as that spike pressed through and into him, pushing those walls of his valve apart, but slowly, gently so not to hurt, and it surely did not hurt, as Mirage gave a keening moan.

Behind him, he could just hear the saboteur groaning, his mouth nestled against his neck, sending pleasant little vibrations through those cables in his neck yet he was little aware of that. No, most of his concentration was the feel of the saboteur pushing into him, still slowly before Jazz's movements came to a halt. Mirage was still panting as that spike pressed against those pliable walls of his valve that were tightly enveloped upon the pleasurable intruder.

"T-tight," Jazz stammered with a little grin, still allowing Mirage to adjust to him while he pressed a few kisses along the noble's neck. "S-such a treat," the saboteur continued, causing the blue and white mech's dermal plating to heat at such a compliment. Little kisses were scattered about, up his cheek, his jaw, to the side of his helm and especially to his neck, all while Jazz made sure that he would not hurt the mech whom he had in such an erotic embrace.

Finally did Jazz draw back which elicited more pleasured sounds from the both of them in the shift. Panting, Mirage made a soft mewl as he tilted his head so far back that the back of his helm was against the saboteur's shoulder. Nearly did Jazz completely draw out of him and he quickly found himself yearning for that filling feel of a spike within him. The emptiness was all too disconcerting for the lustful mech, yet he was quickly sated when the saboteur pressed back into him. Pleasantly shaped lips spread open, his mouth opening yet again to loose another moan, mingled with the groans from Jazz. Again, then for a thrice time, and even a fourth, did Jazz move in those slow thrusts before he finally started to speed his movements up. Such a thing only caused the blue and white mech to cry out even more as those nodes in his valve were stimulated by that spike stretching and filling him so wonderfully. It was beyond what he could've imagined it to be. Interfacing was a thing always met with disdain in the noble circles, always, and yet, here he was, committing such an act with a commoner no less but to him it seemed all too worth it. Though really, Jazz was anything but common.

With easy rolling hips now, did the saboteur thrust into him, the pace still gentle, but no longer slow. No, it was a moderate tempo, not too fast, not too slow. Still, it was driving Mirage wild with pleasure. Moans were coursing from his vocalizer in the way that lubricant was trickling from his valve. Some of that glistening, violet fluid dripped to the berth below, while some of it ran down his thighs and a bit even ran down the base of Jazz's spike, to his spike housing before running down into the rest of his own interfacing array. Back and forth did the two sway as Jazz continued that pace. Left and right did Mirage sway his head, mouth left open as the saboteur groaned loudly against his neck as he made those circular strokes into that tight and oh-so wet valve.

Never did the pace get too fast, though Mirage was beyond adequately pleased by those circular thrusts in and out of him. Everything was tingling, the pleasure climbing steadily, quickly even. The noble's moans had shortened, were now just sharp gasps edged with his accented voice, and he thought that if Jazz even changed one thing up, he would be pushed off the edge and into an abyss of pleasure. Barely did even the smallest thought process pass through his CPU, but what did process was the sounds he heard from Jazz. Surprised was the noble to hear those sounds, sometimes bordering on whines as the mech nipped at the cables in his neck. Surely he hadn't expected the mech to be so pleasured from him, but even as he heard that, he could hear a pleasure drawl in each sound the mech made. There was a shift as the saboteur leaned him forward, shifting the way he was thrusting in and out of Mirage, the thrusts becoming so short, almost desperate. The shift was just enough to push him right over the edge.

A sharp cry left his vocalizer as he threw his head back against the firm, but shaking shoulder belonging to that of the saboteur. His first overload, and it was something he could not have expected or prepared for as the pleasure consumed him. So intense was it that he surely thought he would offline from it. Suddenly, Jazz felt larger within him and it was then that he realized that his valve had actually constricted upon the thrusting mech. Mingled in the pleasure was pain, pain at his shoulder, ever so slight as the saboteur bit down on plating as he was fueled towards his own overload. Feeling that surge of hot fluid as Jazz hilted himself within him again, for the final time. Mirage gave a secondary cry of pleasure from the fluid within him, optics flaring as he felt the energy in his frame suddenly evaporated. Slouching, he panted softly as the saboteur was still within him, causing a pleasant tingle through him as his valve continued to clench sporadically thought not near as tight as it had initially done.

"Nngn, Raj. . ." Jazz murmured, soothing the bite marks with his glossa, nearly just as out of breath as he.

A moment more did Jazz linger within him, before pulling out, causing Mirage to moan softly to the action. Lubricant and transmetal fluid, violet and silver mingled, dripped from his valve and onto the berth, though Jazz didn't seem to mind the mess. There were soft sounds as Jazz moved away from him and Mirage couldn't help but lean back, letting his frame fall to the berth with a soft thump. A smile was on his lips as cooling fans whirred. "Ahh, Jazz. . . that was amazing. . ." he murmured with his optics off. Condensation was dripping off his plating as he rested, systems slowly coming back to normal levels.

"Ya talk like it's all over," Jazz chuckled, his own speech slightly winded from the exertion.

"Huh?" Mirage asked, turning his head, flicking his optics on in time to see Jazz crawling towards his legs. There was a playful little grin upon the saboteur's features and he noted the mech had tucked his spike away. One hand dabbled down to the puddle on the berth that had been made from their combined exertions. "Wha? Ya thought I was just going ta do the job half way and not finish?" the black and white mech drawled, lifting his digits, smeared in transmetal fluid and lubricant, and licking the fluid off. A shiver moved through Mirage as those hands then reached for his thighs, and before too long he found Jazz between his legs. There a hand reached out, circling around a second seal, the one on his spike. "Nah, got this ta take care of Raj, then I'll be done with ya for the night, hope ya don't offline on me though. . ." Jazz said before chuckling.

Oh, Mirage knew this was just the beginning to a beautiful thing. . .


End file.
